


Odds & Ends

by Emjayelle



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 13:56:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 16,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4394504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emjayelle/pseuds/Emjayelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bits & pieces collected from around the web: tumblr ficlets and graphic AUs and fanart and other small fanworks. Details in each chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. tumblr ficlets: M/A Part I

 

 

###### 1\. drunk!fic. Sept. 2012

Everyone always thinks, that between the two of them, Merlin is the lightweight, the one that can’t hold his liquor and will end up, by the end of the night, either with his face plastered to the cool edges of the toilet, or randomly snogging strangers in the pub.

Truth is, he’s not a lightweight at all, but Arthur is. There’s no explaining it, beside maybe the fact that Arthur spent his teenage years in a house with a very conservative father and had barely ever tasted beer until Fresher’s week at uni, but there it is. 

Arthur cannot hold his alcohol. Two beers and an ill-advised tequila shooter in, and Arthur is gone. 

But Merlin doesn’t mind. When the evening is over, Merlin gets to wrap his arms around Arthur to take him back to their room, and to feel his warm breath across his cheek and neck. He gets to take off his shoes and lay Arthur’s head on his pillow. He gets to give him pills and water and brush the sweaty hair off his forehead. He gets to hear Arthur mumble sweet words against Merlin’s hand. He gets to hear him say ‘I love you’ and 'I want you’ and 'Please don’t leave me’. 

Merlin gets to say 'me too’ and 'I won’t’ until Arthur falls asleep.

He takes off his own shoes and his clothes and slips under the covers in his own bed on the other side of the room.

He gets to wait for the day when Arthur is brave enough to tell him those things sober. Until then, he’ll wait.

 

 

###### 2\. genderswap. Sept. 2012

Merlin crosses his arms over his breasts, leans back in his chair, and tells himself that this can’t go on for much longer. It’s not his fault they met the most incompetent sorcerer of all time and that Merlin had to interfere to save Arthur, again. Had he known, he would have let the prat get hit by the spell, it would probably have been good for his ego. 

He didn’t ask for this. He sure as hell doesn’t want it. He just really wants to fuck Arthur, damnit.

Arthur is sitting on the other side of the table, shirtless and flushed from the fire heat and the wine they’ve been drinking. He is leaning back in his own chair, arms crossed as well over his chest, pulling the skin tight over the muscles. He looks at Merlin warily.

Shit, fuck, why is this happening to him?

Arthur sighs. “How long is this spell going to last?”

Merlin shrugs. “I don’t know,” he mumbles annoyed, following the lines of Arthur’s body with his eyes, clenching his fingers tightly. 

“This better end soon. I miss your cock.”

“Me too.”

 

 

###### 3\. Arthur catches Merlin with his proverbial pants down (magic). Dec. 2012

It happens quickly: a few words, a flash of gold, fire. Then the deadly silence that only follows truths being said, and heard, and rejected.

It shifts the world, makes the Earth tremble, obliterates stone. Or it should. It should paint the skies red, and change rivers into blood. It should make them scream until their throats are raw. It should make days become night and the oceans dry.

But all it leaves in its wake, is a trembling Merlin, eyes wide and terrified, like a boy’s in the morning after his first battle. A strange look on a man that has seen so much, killed many, fought dragons and soldiers, held dying men in his arms, bled from wounds and faced death as if it were a friend.

Arthur cannot make himself hate this boy-man before him, this shaking ghost, who wears Merlin’s face, but still stands tall and straight and defiant.

So he reaches and cradles his cheek in his hand, and Merlin flinches for a moment, before leaning into the touch. Arthur steps forward, touches his chest to Merlin’s, lets his heartbeat echo against his—two, three, beats—and then kisses him. Hard. 

He doesn’t mean it to be punishing, doesn’t mean for there to be so much heat, and hard pressing fingers to sides and neck and waist. But he digs them into Merlin skin anyway, and lets Merlin grab hard at his shoulders, while Arthur licks and bites at his lips.

He lets Merlin take their clothes off, but pushes him onto the bed, covers his body with his own—makes his weight felt there, between Merlin’s knees—keeps him under him, all bones and angles and hard lines. 

He sucks bruises into Merlin’s neck, and doesn’t flinch when Merlin bites his collarbone. There are words stuck behind his ribcage, trying to claw their way out, to admonish, or yell, or whisper things that should remain unsaid. He bites on them hard and swallows them back, bitter on his tongue and makes Merlin taste them, rolls them into Merlin’s mouth with his tongue.

Merlin wraps his legs around his waist and arches his back, breathes loud and heavy in Arthur’s ears, and it sounds like sorry, but not like regret. The friction between their bodies builds and chafes and warms and it’s harsh and ragged, until it’s blinding.

Then it’s cool and cold again. There’s space, a gulf, an ocean, a whole world between them, as Arthur looks across it, to Merlin’s face and the panting breaths coming though his bruised lips. There’s fear still, until Arthur reaches out and wipes it off with the brush of his thumb.

 

 

###### 4\. coffeeshop!AU. March. 2013

Merlin practically ran into his favorite coffee shop–hair in disarray, clothes wrinkled and more mismatched than usual–and sat down, digging frantically in his bag in search of his wallet. He needed his goddamn coffee, and he needed it _now_.

“Here,” said a voice, and Merlin raised his head to see the tall, blond man that usually came here at the same time as Merlin every morning–the one that wasn’t in any case responsible for making this place Merlin’s favorite–handing him a cup of coffee. “Tall, regular coffee, two milks, four sugars, right?”

Merlin nodded and took the cup, bemused, but relaxed as soon as the bitter, hot liquid touched his lips. “My hero,” he said extending his hand and laughing a little. “I’m Merlin.”

The man smiled a boyish smile, broad and honest, full of slightly crooked teeth, and, in Merlin’s opinion, all kinds of perfect.

“Arthur,” the man said, taking Merlin’s hand and making his heart stutter.

 

 

###### 5\. detectives. March. 2013

“I _need_ this arsehole to come out soon,” says Arthur, shifting uncomfortably on the car seat, fiddling with the zoom of his camera.

“Cheer up, Marple, he’s bound to show his face eventually,” says Merlin’s voice in his ear.

“Not soon enough." Arthur groans and readjusts his earpiece. "Had I known this job would require me to sit on my arse for hours waiting for a middle-aged loser to finish fucking his gold-digging mistress, just so his wife can clean his pockets in a undoubtedly messy divorce, with only you to keep me company, I would have accepted my father’s offer to be part of his company.”

“Oh shut up, J. Fletcher, you know you love it. And you would have gone mad after one week in that soul-sucking office job anyway.”

“Enough with the names, Merlin.” Arthur sighs, takes a sip of cold–absolutely, horribly, unimaginably disgusting–coffee, and grimaces. “If he doesn’t come out in two minutes, I’m charging in there and taking that bloody picture. I don’t give a shit if he isn’t done yet. Mid-coitus shot will be more incriminating anyway.”

“Whatever you say, Nancy Drew.”

“Damnit Merlin!”

 

 

###### 6\. university roommates. March. 2013

There were a few things Merlin knew to potentially expect from a university roommate: incompatible hours with his, messiness, getting woken up in the middle of the night when they dragged their sorry drunk arse back to the room, possible homophobes, and other unpleasant habits, like smoking and listening to bad music.

He also knew to potentially expect the complete opposite. 

What he didn’t expect however–and in retrospect he really should have because Arthur was an arrogant prat, who was too fit, too blond, too confident, and too perfect for his own good–was to find his roommate, naked on Merlin’s bed in the middle of the afternoon, wanking.

Merlin gasped and quickly shut the door behind him.

“Arthur, what the fuck?”

Arthur–the bastard–didn’t even blinked and just raised an eyebrow at him. “Well, aren’t you going to join me?” he said, cocky.

Merlin snorted. “What is this? A cheesy porno?”

Arthur only smiled and opened his legs wider. “If you want.”

 

 

###### 7\. a bar. March. 2013

Merlin enters the warm room in a gust of cold wind and rain, and walks straight to the bar where Arthur is sitting alone, hunched over a glass of whisky. 

He smiles gratefully at the bartender–who nods and walks off to clean some tables–then puts his hand between Arthur’s shoulder blades. 

“Arthur, mate, time to go home, yeah?”

Arthur looks up at him, eyes red and puffy, mouth in a grim line. He takes a minute to focus on Merlin, and then stands up, losing his balance. Merlin wraps an arm around Arthur’s waist and lets him lean heavily on him.

“‘tis my birthday today, Merlin. 'Tis my birthday.”

“I know, mate, just–help me out a bit yeah? You’re bloody heavy.”

But Arthur doesn’t listen to him, keeps leaning on Merlin as he drags his feet on the floor, breath warm and smelling of cheap liquor across Merlin’s face.

“She died today, too, Merlin. She died and he hates me and– _fuck_. I… why… it wasn’t my fault you know?”

“I know Arthur, I know.” Merlin sighs. He digs his fingers into Arthur’s waist and kisses his temple. “It’s going to be okay, I swear.”

 

 

###### 8\. zombie apocalypse. April. 2013

Merlin fucking hates zombies, okay? They’re gross, and foul, and _everywhere_. They reproduce like fucking bunnies in heat, but without the fun and with way more guts and gore. He’s sure some people are into that, but Merlin is not one of them thank you very much.

They also keep cockblocking him.

Every time Merlin thinks he might _finally_ get into Arthur’s pants, one comes walking through the door like it fucking feeds on Merlin’s desperation. Look, if there’s one thing one should do at the end of the world, in Merlin’s opinion, it’s to get Arthur fucking Pendragon to drop the hard-edged, I’m-in-charge facade, and make him moan Merlin’s name like it’s the most bloody precious thing on Earth, while he comes hard into Merlin’s arse. If they’re absolutely short on time, Merlin’s ready to negotiate an amazing blowjob instead.

After all, this is the end of the world and these are the facts: his leg is bleeding and he can feel the fever rising in his veins.

 

 

###### 9\. angel!Merlin. April 2013

“I am an Angel of the Lord,” Merlin says, dragging on his cigarette.

Arthur looks up from the torn pages he holds in his hands, full of symbols he doesn’t know how he can understand. He grabs the bottle of tequila on his coffee table and takes a long swig. Fuck.

“I can see that,” he says, looking pointedly at Merlin’s wings–black feathers rustling in the draft from the broken window, the sound like whispers, like the glide of fingertips on skin. “Repeating it won’t make it easier to swallow.”

“You are taking this remarkably well,” Merlin says, frowning.

“Yeah, well…,” Arthur takes another swig of tequila, “weirdest fucking drunk dream I’ve ever had, to be honest, but still…”

“Is that what you think this is, Prophet? A dream?”

“Does it matter?”

Merlin looks at him for a moment, before shrugging and stubbing his cigarette on Arthur’s carpet. “No." 

The lights flicker, and Merlin looks a bit worried. He extends a hand to Arthur, wings starting to expand behind him. "I am meant to protect you, Prophet. They are coming. Let’s Go.”

And the night only gets fucking weirder from then on.

 

 

###### 10\. in Morgana’s chambers. June. 2013

“Damnit, Merlin. Just put it on!”

“No.”

“Look, it’s simple. You put the dress on, we do this thing, then you take it off. Easy!”  
Merlin crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow at him in a way that would make Gaius proud. “You do know I’m not a girl, right?”

He sounds annoyed, he knows, and that’s because he is, and not because Arthur’s asking him to put on one of Morgana’s dress, but because he knows he was always going to say yes in the end. He grabs the garment with a sigh, and scowls at Arthur, who looks entirely too smug right now. He resolves to “accidentally” rub poison ivy over Arthur’s best shirt some time in the next few days, see how he likes it.

He comes out from behind the changing screen, uncomfortable and more than a little peeved. The dress is too tight around his shoulders and waist, and he keeps stepping on the bottom of it.

He’s expecting Arthur to laugh at him, but he just looks at Merlin with a soft smile and a fond expression, that takes Merlin completely by surprised.

Arthur rubs his palm on Merlin’s shoulder. “Colour suits you,” he says, low, and leans forward to brush his lips against Merlin’s, light and soft, but slow enough to have the time to lick his bottom lip before pulling back and grinning.

Fine. Maybe he’ll just wash Arthur’s red shirt with the white ones instead.

 

 


	2. tumblr ficlets: M/A Part II

 

 

###### 11\. in the love net. June. 2013

Three or four hours in–he’s not sure at this point–and Arthur’s about to take drastic measures, if not to get out of this goddamn net, then to find a way to let himself fall on his own sword.

The thing is, Merlin won't shut up. He talks and he talks and he’s been talking for hours and Arthur’s losing his mind. He knows it’s Merlin’s way of coping. It’s his way of trying to distract Arthur and to make light of the situation, but really how he thinks Arthur will forget for one moment that they’re both stuck in a fucking net, that he hurts _everywhere_ , and that he has parts of Merlin’s limbs pushing in really uncomfortable places, he doesn’t know. 

It’s only when Merlin’s in the middle of his story about how Will did something that ended up with him being locked in this old farmer’s barn for the night or something as equally dull that Arthur doesn’t care about, that he realizes that Merlin’s trying to calm himself down as much as he’s trying to reassure Arthur. It worries Arthur because Merlin doesn’t get scared, he just doesn’t… most of the time. And then he’s annoyed that he’s worried, and then frustrated because Merlin’s still blabbering and still being scared, and how dare he make things more complicated than they are.

That’s frankly the excuse he’s going to use for what he does next, that and maybe insist that the berries they ate some time in the afternoon were _clearly_ poisonous.

He shifts over, ignores Merlin’s yelp of pain when Arthur’s knees pushes against his groin, and quite literally crashes his face against Merlin’s. Their teeth clang together, and Merlin’s gasp causes Arthur to move down slightly, Merlin’s chin stubble sliding over Arthur’s lips. But Arthur always follows through, and he grasps a rope, hoists himself up again, and puts his lips back on Merlin’s, insistent, and a bit bruising, until he feels Merlin relax against him, his hands grabbing Arthur’s wrists, and it’s a bit brilliant in fact, if Arthur’s honest. But more importantly, Merlin’s quiet. Finally.

 

 

###### 12\. swimming pool, sunshine, air conditioner. June. 2013

Arthur’s front door is unlocked when Merlin arrives. He crosses the air-conditioned house into the garden where he finds Arthur doing laps in the pool. The water shimmers under the bright mid-afternoon sun, shades of blue and green and white. The air smells like chlorine and freshly mowed grass. 

Merlin sits on the edge of one of the lounge chair and watches Arthur swim for a while, appreciating the shifting of the muscles in his shoulders and back, and the way Arthur’s hair clings to his forehead when he stops, grasping the side of the pool and catching his breath.  
“I can see you’re working very hard,” Merlin says, loud enough for Arthur to hear him.

Arthur turns quickly in his direction and Merlin can’t help grinning back at him when Arthur’s face breaks into that goofy smile he has every time he sees Merlin. He always tries to smooth it out and appear cool, but Merlin always sees it and loves it. Arthur dives back into the water and swims the length of the pool toward Merlin. He hauls himself out, water dripping along his arms and legs, swimming trunks plastered to his body in very unfairly attractive ways. Merlin lets himself appreciate the view, and Arthur gives him a smug look before bending down and kissing Merlin quickly.

“Spent the afternoon mowing the grass I’ll have you know,” he says towelling his hair and chest.

“Wow,” Merlin says, “what a hard worker you are. I’m impressed.”

“Hey, it’s a big bloody place you know.”

Merlin only snorts. Arthur kneels in front of him, wraps his arms around Merlin’s waist, and burrows his face in Merlin’s neck, nibbling at the skin.

Merlin wrinkles his nose in disgust and tries to push him away. “Ugh, stop, I smell like chips and burgers.”

“And you,” Arthur says into his skin. “Three of my favorite things. Lucky me. Num num num.”

Merlin rolls his eyes but leans forward into Arthur’s embrace. He licks at the soft spot behind Arthur’s ear and it tastes like pool water, salt and sunshine.

“Hi,” he whispers against Arthur’s ear and enjoys the way Arthur’s shoulders and arms cover in goosebumps. Merlin nuzzles his cheek.

“Hi,” Arthur says, a bit breathless, a bit laughing, hands fisted at the back of Merlin’s work shirt.

“You taste like summer,” Merlin whispers, fingertips trailing along Arthur’s upper arms.

Arthur chuckles. “You taste like bad fast food.”

Merlin pulls back and glare at him and is about to retaliate with a properly witty and scathing retort when Arthur swoops him up over his shoulder and throws him in the pool. Merlin doesn’t have time to protest because Arthur has jumped after him, and Merlin can only kiss him and kiss him, until everything is only water and sunshine and the way they taste on Arthur’s lips.

 

 

###### 13\. moon, snow, fire. June. 2013

Merlin’s boots are soaked, and he can’t feel his toes, he can’t feel most of his body and his muscles hurt from cramping too much. 

He readjusts the few twigs he was able to find that aren’t too wet and makes his way back to camp. The woods are eerily quiet, but for the crunching of Merlin’s footstep in the freshly fallen snow and the soft exhales of his breath. Everything else is dampened and wet and bright-cold. The moon casts long shadows, dark blue and black against the whiteness of the ground.

Arthur’s sitting by the small fire he was able to light and Merlin takes a few moment to try and coax the flames a bit higher, a bit warmer, with the wood he found. When he’s done his best he sits beside Arthur, knees tight against his chest, trying to cover his stiff fingers inside his sleeves. He doesn’t dare look at Arthur.

The silence stretches and Merlin hates how he can hear his own heartbeat over the crackling of the flames.

Arthur lets out a long sigh that has Merlin turning his head a bit to look at him. Arthur doesn’t look back, eyes fixed on the fire, but he stretches his arm out, opening his cape in a clear invitation. Merlin hesitates for a moment, before shifting until he’s tight against Arthur’s side, head on his shoulder, and Arthur’s arm and cape are wrapped back around him. Arthur reaches out and grabs Merlin’s fingers in one of his hand, slowly massaging them.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin whispers, and he thinks it might have been swallowed by the snow and the cold winter air, but after a long moment, Arthur’s arm tightens around him, his fingers steady and strong over Merlin’s, and that’s enough.

 

 

###### 14\. motorcycle, leather, tattoo. June. 2013

A bell rang when Arthur opened the door to the parlour, and the guy behind the counter looked up from his magazine and gave him a once over with a slightly incredulous quirk of his eyebrow. Arthur squared his shoulders and walked up to him.

“I.D.” the guy said before Arthur could say anything.

Arthur rolled his eyes, but took out his driving license and showed it to him with as smug a look he knew he could managed. The guy took a quick look at it and nodded.

“What can I do for you… Arthur.”

Arthur took a significant look around at the pictures on the wall, then at the guy’s arms covered in lines and colours.

“I’d like a tattoo… um…”

“Merlin.”

“Merlin. This is the right place for that, right?”

“Right.”

“Well then.”

Merlin chuckled, scratching lightly under the leather cuff around his wrist. Arthur’s eyes were drawn to his fingers, long and thin, and he couldn’t help the shiver that ran down his spine.

“See something you like?” Merlin said.

Arthur startled. “What?”

This time Merlin laughed out loud and Arthur had to forced down the heat that rose at the back of his neck. Merlin pointed at the walls.

“Oh,” Arthur said. “I brought my own drawing.”

He dug around in his bag and took out his sketchbook, turning the pages until he found the one he wanted. He turned it around and handed it to Merlin. Merlin took the sketchbook in his hands, brushing Arthur’s fingers with his own. He looked at the design for a long time and Arthur shuffled his feet a little, suddenly nervous.

“Did you draw this?” Merlin said.

“Yes.”

“It’s really good.”

A flush of pleasure filled Arthur’s stomach. “Thanks.”

“I can definitely work with that,” Merlin said.

Arthur smiled. “You’ll be the one doing it?”

“Yeah. If that’s okay.”

“Yeah, that’s cool. I mean–no problem.”

Merlin smiled at him then, all dimples and crinkling lines around his eyes that made him look younger, and Arthur had to smile back, giddiness filling his veins.

“Let me check the schedule, but we can probably start next week,” Merlin said opening a large book. “Next Thursday okay? At nine?”

“Yeah.”

“Excellent. I’ll see you then. I’ll keep your drawing if that’s alright.”

Arthur nodded and shouldered his bag. “The motorcycle outside,” he said as he was about to leave. “Is it yours?”

“Yeah,” Merlin said without looking up from what he was writing.

“Nice.”

Merlin raised his head then, smiling again bright and lovely. Arthur couldn’t _wait_ for next Thursday.

 

 

###### 15\. pillows, books, coffee. June. 2013

“No, but–okay, okay, but if you had to choose right? If–” Merlin moaned and shifted his hips shoving a pillow under them. “If you were–if you were on a desert island, right? And–”

Arthur nibbled on Merlin’s ear and hummed to let him know he was listening. While still keeping a slow, steady rhythm, thrusting in and out of Merlin, letting him ramble to his heart’s content.

“–and you could only have one book, just–fuck–just one, right? Which–which one would it–”

Arthur laughed, biting lightly at Merlin’s collarbone, picking up the pace and enjoying the small sounds coming from Merlin’s throat and the way his fingers dig into Arthur’s shoulders as he struggled to keep his train of thought.

See, Merlin’s _weird_. If there was such a thing as a book kink, Merlin had it. He once came practically untouched with three of Arthur’s fingers deep in his arse while Arthur quoted Dostoevsky to him. Well, what could he say, Merlin had a thing for the Russians and Arthur had been happy to oblige. 

Arthur kissed Merlin hard on the lips before whispering “Robinson Crusoe,” against his jaw making Merlin laugh and moan.

When they had both reached what Arthur deemed very satisfactory orgasms (thank you very much), and had cleaned up (meaning Merlin had used Arthur’s shirt as a towel), Merlin turned to Arthur and poked his nose.

“I’m serious,” he said.

“So am I,” Arthur said with a grin.

Merlin looked at him dubiously, but then swung his leg over the bed and got up.

“Coffee?”

“Yes please.”

“ You must have a better answer when I come back.”

Arthur only laughed into the pillows. He couldn’t wait to show Merlin how well he’d memorized Merlin’s book of 19th century poetry. It was going to be a _great_ day.

 

 

###### 16\. Secret Garden!AU. April. 2014

“So, this is where she died,” Arthur says, and Merlin almost has to strain himself, take a step closer, to hear him properly. He seems more lost in his thoughts anyway, sweeping the sleeping garden with wide eyes, a boyish sort of wonder that’s dark and sad, and yet a contrast to the grown-up width of his shoulders, the crispness of his military uniform. As if to further the dissonance, Arthur tugs on his collar, like it’s too tight, unwelcome, and yet Merlin thinks he must have worn it for months, maybe years, if what they all say in the village is true. It shouldn’t bother Arthur at all, yet it clearly does, as he repeats the gesture twice before catching himself and dropping his hand at his side.

The need to get close and loosen up Arthur’s collar for him catches Merlin off guard, and instead he bends down, gathers soil in his hand and let it trickle between his fingers, the familiar smell of it comforting, strong even though it’s winter.

“I shouldn’t be surprised Father left it died too. Maybe it’s better this way,” Arthur says, turning back, leaning on his cane and starting to walk back toward the garden’s gate.

Except. Except, Merlin’s no fool, and he saw the tilt of Arthur’s head, the way his shoulders sagged when he spoke, as if disappointed and he says:

“It’s not dead.”

Arthur stops in his tracks and Merlin stares at his rigid back a long time. Long enough for his legs to start to cramp and he stands up, wipes his dirty hands on his thighs. Arthur turns his head to the side, profile rigid and stark against the browns of the bare brambles and branches, but doesn’t say anything. So Merlin breaks a small branch from the nearest bush and goes to him instead, showing him the green inside.

“Wick,” he says, and Arthur frowns at the branch, then raises an eyebrow at him that makes Merlin roll his eyes despite himself. “Alive. The garden isn’t dead, just sleeping. In the spring, it’ll be full of flowers.” He doesn’t miss the spark of hope in Arthur’s eyes, the shivery breath he takes and Merlin has to look away from Arthur’s face, back to the garden. “It’ll be wild though, probably overrun. I could–” Merlin takes a deep breath and looks back at Arthur. “I could make it good again. I could show you how, if you wanted.”

Arthur smiles, the first smile from him Merlin’s seen, and it changes him, makes him bright, makes him shine.

Merlin couldn’t look away even if he wanted to.

 

 

###### 17\. lifeguard!AU. April. 2014

“So, who’s the new guy?” Arthur asked as he rubbed sunscreen on his shoulders. Perched high on his lifeguard chair he could see all the way down the beach, where the rocky-sandy shore of the lake turned into a grassy slope on which stood the little, rickety ice cream stand.

“Name’s Merlin,” Gwaine said, and Arthur looked down at him, ignoring how difficult it was to actually drag his eyes away from the tall, lanky frame of the guy–Merlin–wild dark hair, huge ears and all. He looked _ridiculous_. 

Arthur made a non-committal sound that he hoped showed how much he really didn’t care, but by the smirk on Gwaine’s face he might have missed the mark a bit. 

“He’s from Ealdor. Here all summer,” Gwaine said. “Talked to him earlier. Nice, funny dude, actually.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“Sure you didn’t, buddy.” Gwaine only smirked at him more, and took off his shirt in one swift movement, making the group of teenage girls sitting nearby gape and stare. Arthur rolled his eyes.

“Get to your own chair, asshole,” he said, facing the lake himself, keeping an eye on the few swimmers brave enough to face the cold waters of early June.

He took a quick look over his shoulder, just in time to see Merlin walked out of the stand and kneel in front of a crying kid who’d just dropped his cone, with a freshly made one in hand. The bastard was all wide smile and dimples. How dare he, seriously.

Arthur turned back resolutely toward the lake. The sun made the water sparkle, the tall green pines stood tall around it and Arthur took it all in: the blue sky, the sunshine, the smells of cooking hot dogs, ice cream, soil and water, the laughter of the campers.

This was going to be an interesting summer, he could tell.

(this ficlet has a "sequel": [Amid the Pines That Stood](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1749014))

 

 

###### 18\. fencing tournament. April. 2014

“Who am I up against, next?” Arthur said, red faced and all business already, and Merlin couldn’t help put roll his eyes. The plonker just won a place in semi-finals and he was already thinking ahead, barely allowing himself a quick and small smug smile when he won. His dedication and overt self-confidence was disgusting, really. 

Okay, that was a lie. Merlin just really wanted to climb him like a tree. Something was clearly wrong with him.

“Valiant, it looks like,” Merlin said, handing a towel to Arthur, then a bottle of water. He gently pushed Arthur toward a bench and knelt in front of him while Arthur was too busy groaning and being exasperated to notice and to resist. Merlin understood though. Valiant was an insult to the sport of fencing and should never have been allowed to compete. Not after the last time Arthur and him fought. Not after what he did to Arthur’s wrist.

Arthur would crush him like the bug that he was though. It would be so sweet to Merlin’s soul.  
Merlin took Arthur’s injured wrist in his hands, carefully rotating it, checking to make sure everything was fine.

“Hey,” Arthur said, low and soft and Merlin looked up at him. Arthur looked back fondly, finally smiling like he was happy to have won. “It’s fine. Doesn’t hurt at all.”

“Make him hate the day he did that to you,” Merlin said, surprising himself at the amount of anger in his voice, but Arthur only nodded and drank some more water, turning the hand that Merlin was still holding, to squeeze Merlin’s fingers.

“That’s the plan.”

“Good.”

They stayed silent for a while, Merlin still holding Arthur’s hand under the guise of doing his job. 

“Time for a quickie in the loo?” Arthur said, not looking at Merlin, but obviously trying not to smile.

“I think we can manage,” Merlin said, and let Arthur helped him to his feet.

 

 


	3. tumblr ficlets: M/A Part III

 

 

###### 19\. in space. August. 2014

“ _So. I have something to ask you._ ”

“Merlin can this wait? I’m a bit busy here.” Arthur looks down at his feet. The fog on this planet is thick and low on the ground, making it difficult to see where he’s walking. The soil is spongy and Arthur thinks that it’s probably a good thing he can’t quite see what he’s stepping on.

“ _Not really? I sort of–I can’t–I’ve tried to ask you before, but I can’t._ ”

Arthur stops. There’s dew on his helmet’s visor and it’s hard to see further than a few meters but the system’s twin suns are rising slowly over the horizon, slowly dispersing the night’s fog.  
He sighs. “You can ask me anything, Merlin,” he says, starting to walk again, scanning the air around him.

“ _I know but–it’s just–ugh–Iwantyoutospankme._ ”

“What?”

Merlin’s voice is small and crackled over the com and Arthur cannot have heard what he thinks he’s just heard.

“ _Oh my god. I. want. you. to. spank. me._ ”

“Merlin.”

“I think you’d like it! You like bossing me around and giving me orders. You can see it as something in the same direction? And like–”

“Merlin–”

“ _And I can beg you. If you want. You like that. And we can have a safeword or whatever the fuck if you’re not comfortable, but I’d–I’d really love it, I think, and–_ ”

“MERLIN!”

“What?”

Arthur takes a deep breath of recycled air. The alien sunrise brightens everything around him. The fog has dispersed. The ground looks like compacted vomit and mud. _Great_.

“I changed the channel before suiting up so Morgana and the bio team could take readings on the spot,” he says, trying not to shout.

“ _Oh._ ”

“ _I so did not need to hear that,_ " Morgana says.

” _I don’t know, I could stand to hear more,_ “ Gwaine says.

Arthur closes his eyes. "Thanks, Merlin.”

There is a long silence, then–“ _I’ve been a bad boy?_ ”

Fuck Arthur’s life.

 

 

###### 20\. speed dating. August. 2014

“Sooooo, Arthur, right? What do you do?” Merlin asked. This was shit. Yeah, the guy was fit, but he didn’t look like he wanted to be here one bit. Not that Merlin could blame him, but at least he was making an effort. Arthur was just sort of… glaring. At everything. Life. 

“I’m a manager,” Arthur said. He didn’t offer more, just drank half of his glass of wine in one go. Yeah, okay. Merlin got it.

Merlin bit down on an impulse to tell him off, and took a deep breath.

Maybe it was because Merlin didn’t really want to be here either, or because Arthur was shredding his napkin with nervous fingers. Maybe it was because Arthur was fit and Merlin was horny, or whatever really, normally he couldn’t really stand rude jerks, but he said:

“Look. I don’t want to be here. You _clearly_ don’t want to be here. How about we fuck off. There’s a pub nearby.”

Arthur looked at him with narrowed eyes.

“Or,” Merlin continued. “Or, you can stay here and suffer some more for the next hour.”

Arthur gave him a once over and flattened his hands on the table. Merlin couldn’t decide if the low lights were making him softer or harsher and was suddenly really curious to find out. Outside. From a _very_ close vantage point. 

Then, Arthur grinned, something slow and promising.

“I live two blocks from here,” he said.

“Deal." 

Merlin looked at him watch. Three minutes. Not bad.

 

 

###### 21\. reunited after a long time. Oct. 2014

Merlin’s working in the greenhouse when he hears the news. He’s dropped his tools and is halfway across the lawn to the Manor before he knows it—and before he remembers himself. He cuts sharply to the left, comes in through the servants entrance without taking off his boots, or washing his hands. 

He climbs the stairs two at a time, makes a turn through the empty dining room toward the library. The wide doors are opened and all the servants are huddled in the doorway. Cook and Sefa are crying. Gwen’s eyes are wide and wet, her hand on her mouth. Even Geoffrey seems unsteady, holding himself to the doorframe. Merlin pushes through them. He can hear—has to see—has to—

There in the middle of the room is Lord Pendragon sitting on a chair, head bowed down and hand over his eyes. There is Lady Morgana crying. There is Arthur— _Arthurarthurarthur_ —standing and holding her against his chest. Arthur with too-short hair. Arthur with a large bruise on the side of his face. Arthur in his stiff military uniform. Arthur raising his eyes and looking at Merlin across the room and— _alive_. So alive.

Merlin’s lungs hurt. It feels like he hasn’t breathed in weeks, months. Like he’s a clock that’s suddenly started clicking again after being silent and still and broken.

***

Merlin’s been waiting for the knock on the door since the afternoon.

He cleaned. He cried. He waited.

Arthur’s soft in the candlelit room. Even the bruising on his face looks better, less angry and real. His eyes are tired.

“Merlin.”

Merlin takes a step toward him once Arthur’s closed the door, careful. “They said that you—that you. They didn’t know—”

“I got lost,” Arthur says, low and brittle. Merlin never thought he’d hear his voice again. “I’m sorry.”

Merlin gasps around a sob, takes another step until he can touch Arthur’s face, feel the familiar line of his jaw under his fingers. Arthur grabs his wrist and drags Merlin’s hand down to his neck where Merlin can feel Arthur’s pulse—each vibrant, powerful beat of his heart.

“You’re here,” Merlin says.

Arthur gives a quirk of the lips, a shadow of his smile—the one Merlin fell in love with so many years ago—but Merlin will take it, will treasure it.

Arthur pulls Merlin into his arms and buries his face into Merlin’s neck, takes a deep breath. “Yes,” he says, and shudders against Merlin, sagging into him with a sort of bone-deep relief that makes Merlin want to cry, makes him wrap his arms around him and hold him tight. Makes him never want to let him go again. “Yes,” he repeats. “I’m here.”

 

 

###### 22\. reunion. Nov. 2014

Merlin looks taller. Or maybe it’s just that he’s far skinnier than the last time Arthur saw him, with sharp cheekbones poking out from over a bushy black beard. His eyes are the same, though, large and as blue as the midsummer sky outside. His druid robes are worn but clean, and he stands still in the doorway of Arthur’s chambers like he’s waiting to be invited in. It’s that fact, more than anything else, that shakes Arthur out of his stare, makes him take a step forward.

“You came,” he says, softer than he intended. The air feels very still. Sunlight comes in through the window, makes the stone warmer, dust motes floating in the beams over the rich wood of his table, his bed. Everything is so quiet, like it’s holding its breath.

He doesn’t remember them ever being this quiet.

Merlin steps in, finally, and closes the door behind him carefully before turning back to look at Arthur. ”You called,” he says.

“I didn’t know if—”

“Of course.”

“Oh.”

Merlin smiles then, and it’s the same familiar smile that Arthur remembers from all those years ago when they were both young, both naive and unprepared.

So he smiles too, feeling for the first time in years like the boy he used to be is still there somewhere inside of him.

“Welcome home, Merlin.”

 

 

###### 23\. fake relationship. Nov. 2014

( _this is an idea I had way back when I thought of trying my hand at this trope. Obviously I never got around to writing it but… Basically, Merlin and Arthur are rival art thieves that need to band together to pull off a heist. They pretend to be married to infiltrate a private auction_ )

“Have you set everything up?” Arthur leans against Merlin’s side while he types a code on his phone. The lush gardens are filled with guests now, but Arthur still lowers his voice a bit, wraps his arm around Merlin’s waist and stays close, mouth almost on his jaw as he talks.

“Yes,” Merlin replies without looking up. He sounds bored and exasperated all at once and it just crawls under Arthur’s skin. He clenches his jaw and focuses on keeping a calm face.

“Are you sure—”

“Yes! Oh my god.”

“I just want to make sure you don’t fuck this up.” Arthur smiles at and tips his chin to salute Mr. Cruz on the other side of the lawn, then kisses Merlin’s temple.

“Screw you. Make sure you don’t fuck it up.”

"I—”

“Mr. Peterson,” interrupts Cruz’s valet, forcing Arthur to turn around. “If you and your husband are ready, the auction will start soon.”

“Thank you,” Arthur says and waits for him to walk away before taking Merlin’s hand in his own. “Come on, _honey_ , let’s get this farce over with.”

 

 

###### 24\. nanny/single parent!AU. Nov. 2014

When Arthur comes back home, it’s two in the morning and he is dead on his feet. 

All the lights in the house are off, but for a lamp in the living room and the one over the kitchen table. Arthur drops his keys carefully in the ceramic bowl in the hall. He runs his thumb over the chip on the lid. Merlin’s mother made it, and Merlin gave it to Arthur last Christmas, saying “so you don’t lose fifteen minutes every day looking for your keys,” with his usual exasperated smile. 

Arthur quickly goes up the stairs to check on Lizzie, then makes his way to the dining room. 

Merlin’s fast asleep on the table, head cushioned by his arms and textbooks all around him. His hair’s as wild as every morning in a way that always makes Arthur’s fingers itch to touch. For a moment, Arthur wants to run his thumb over the dark circles under Merlin’s eyes, along the line of his cheekbone. Merlin’s mouth is open, lips wet and shiny in the low light, drooling over Arthur’s table.

It shouldn’t make Arthur’s chest tighten with fondness and warmth.

He wraps his hand around Merlin’s upper arms and shakes a little. Merlin opens his eyes slowly, blinks and smacks his lips. Arthur has to look away.

“Hey,” Merlin says voice scratchy. “You’re back.”

“Sorry the meeting ran long,” Arthur says. “Everything went well?”

Merlin smiles and stretches. “As usual, yes.”

“Good. You should head to bed.”

Merlin just nods and runs a hand over his face, gives a little wave and a mumbled ‘goodnight’ and heads downstairs to his room.

Arthur stays in the quiet for a long time, then takes a deep breath, carefully gathers Merlin’s books and papers in a pile, and closes the light.

 

 

###### 25\. long distance relationship, Skype sex. Nov. 2014

It started like this:

With Arthur saying “do as I say” as soon as Merlin accepted the call, already naked and stretched out over the cool comforter of his bed, the words making him half-hard.

He loves it when they do this, Arthur telling him what he wants to see and Merlin giving it to him while Arthur clutches at the arms of his chair, forbids himself to touch his dick just to see how long he can resists.

“Add another one,” Arthur says.

Merlin whines, arches his back and pushes a third finger inside of him. There’s so much lube over his hand, the inside of his thighs are shiny with it, slippery, enough that the sheet under him is wet too.

Merlin moves his laptop a little so Arthur has a better view of his fingers going in and out of his hole, all red and stretched because Arthur asked him to get it that way. He lets Arthur hear the squelching sound of it, a counterpoint to Merlin’s own breathing, ragged and harsh.

“Keep them in,” Arthur says as he leans closer to his own screen, eyes wide and hungry. “Deep as you can.”

Merlin does, wrist straining with it, and he uses his other hand to hold his leg up, higher, to give himself some space, open himself up some more.

His skin is hot, full of goosebumps from the cool air and from the way he feels so exposed, so naked and _seen_. 

On the screen, Arthur’s fingers twitch where they rest on his chair. Merlin knows he wants to touch himself, wants it so bad. He can see Arthur’s cock, hard between his legs, wishes he could suck on the head of it, twists his tongue around it until Arthur makes those little high-pitched noises he makes when he’s close to coming, when it’s too much and yet doesn’t want it to end.

Merlin tells him so, tells him as he turns his wrist, gets his fingers even deeper, and loves the ways Arthur closes his eyes for a moment like he needs to collect himself.

“Run your finger along your slit, then flick the head,” Arthur says when he opens his eyes again.

And so it goes on.

 

 

###### 26\. two miserable people meeting at a wedding. Nov. 2014

“You’re drunk.”

“Well duh,” Merlin says taking another swing of his champagne bottle. “This is a wedding, mate, getting drunk’s the name of the game.”

Merlin only looks up at the guy when he lets himself fall in the chair in front of him. Merlin squints at him, then reaches out to get the wine bottle on the table closer to him.

“My name’s on that one,” he says. “Find you own.”

The guy raises his hand and shakes a bottle of champagne. “All set, mate.”

“Then I guess you can stay.”

The guy snorts, tips his champagne to Merlin before taking a large gulp. Merlin stares at the sway his throat moves as he swallows, the sharp line of his jaw, the way his blond hair shines in the low lights.

“You’re the best man,” he says. “Arthur, right?”

“Didn’t you listen to my speech?”

‘Mate, no offense, but I’ve been some level of drunk since the afternoon.“

"Shame. It was great. People laughed. I made some of them cry. I was very moving you know?”

An 80s power ballad starts playing over the stereo and Merlin cringes. “Christ,” he says then turns back to Arthur. “I’m sorry I missed it.”

“There was a great part about the enduring power of love,” Arthur says, and the tone of his voice makes Merlin look at him closer. There’s something about the slant of Arthur’s mouth, the way he rolls his eyes as he swings his bottle up.

Merlin smiles. Maybe the day won’t be a complete waste of time after all. He slides the bottle of wine to Arthur who catches it deftly.

“Tell me more about the enduring power of love,” he says, and Arthur grins, then stands up and walks toward the exit. Merlin grabs his champagne (and the wine, can’t forget the wine) and follows.

 

 


	4. tumblr ficlets: Rare Pairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> rare pair ficlets originally posted on tumblr. By pairing, then chronological order.

 

 

## Elena/Mithian

###### 1\. business partners. March. 2013

“You have _got_ to try the strawberries, Mith. They’re divine,” Elena said as soon as she walked through the door of the grocer, boxes piled high on her hand cart, all disheveled hair and wide grin.

Mithian looked up from the apple display she was arranging, wiped her hands on her green apron and smiled back at her. “Really? Let’s see then.”

Elena grabbed a strawberry from the top box, and Mithian leaned in until she could catch it between her teeth, biting the soft flesh–the sweet tangy flavour of it rolled behind her teeth, under her tongue.

Elena’s grin grew wider, and Mithian licked her lips and moaned in pleasure. “Perfect,” she said.

 

 

###### 2\. they meet online. Sept. 2013

Dear Mith,

It’s weird to be the one writing. I’m not good with words like you are, but I’ll do my best now because it’s your birthday, and because I feel just a tiny bit Brave.

It started with words. Your words to be exact. I know you know that, but I’ve never truly said before how it really started there. Your stories made me feel alive in ways that I don’t know how to describe properly and I devoured them ferociously because that’s what I do with stories. See? You make them and I eat them. How perfect is that? 

Then you let me draw you characters and you said you loved my lines. You said, and I remember it perfectly because it’s the most beautiful thing anyone has ever said to me. You said: “You make what’s in my heart real.”

You always know how to say the right things.

And you know the rest. All those late nights chatting on Skype, and the emails, and everything. They were all perfect. Like you. The first time we met, I was so fuckingincredibly nervous, you have no idea. 

I wanted you to like me so bad. Because I like everything about you. You’re so beautiful sometimes I can’t breathe. Your mind and your words and the way you flick your hair. Did you know you do that? I love the way you do it, it never looks pompous, it’s more like you hair is this bothersome thing and can it please get out of the way? 

I don’t know what I’m saying.

I love you. That’s it. I really do.

So tonight’s your birthday and you invited me. And I’m going to seize the first private moment I have with you and give you this letter with your present (I really hope you like it regardless of what happens after. It was inspired by your latest story and it broke my heart, how dare you).  
And then I’m going to kiss you. 

I apologize in advice. Knowing myself I probably won’t give you enough time to respond to that, and I’ll probably run away on you. I’m not that Brave. But I won’t go far, I promise.

And I’ll wait. I’ll wait for you to find me and kiss me back (or send me away, but I’d rather not think about that right now it’s a bit too much I’m afraid).

I’ll wait.

Love, Ellie.

 

 

## Morgana/Gwen

###### 1\. Boss/PA. March. 2013

“Gwen! I need the–”

“The Jordan-Sinclair file is in the blue folder, you need to sign the forms in the green one, Arthur called to say he would be there around ten tonight, and your dress is hanging behind the door,” says Gwen coming in the office and handing Morgana a couple of folders.

Morgana takes them, sign the files with quick, sharp flicks of her wrist, before giving them back to Gwen. She walks around her desk toward the bathroom, silently cursing her useless brother for always finding some fucking excuse to be late to their family dinner.

“New shoes?” asks Gwen leaning on Morgana’s desk.

“You like?” Morgana turns toward her, smirking as Gwen’s eyes slowly follow the lines of her legs, up her body, to her face.

“I like.”

“I’ll keep them when I come home tonight then?”

Gwen smiles and walks out of Morgana’s office, looking briefly over her shoulder. “I’ll be waiting.”

 

 

## Arthur/Morgana

###### 1\. TV show co-hosts. March. 2013

“How about you try not flirting with the guest for once?” Morgana says, turning her back on Arthur and holding her hair up.

“How about you try not flaunting your breasts to half of the country?” Arthur replies, doing up the zip of her dress.

Morgana turns around and glares at him. “How about you stop being a spoiled, arrogant git for once and stick to the questions.”

Arthur smirks and takes a step towards her, trailing his hand over her shoulder, resting his fingertips against the inside of her elbow, stroking the soft skin. “How about you stop being a bossy, attention seeking witch, and let other people have the spotlight once in a while?”

Morgana scoffs, but bites the corner of her mouth to stop her smile. Arthur grins and leans in.

“Twat,” she mumbles against his lips.

“Harpy,” he says, and presses forward.

 

 

###### 2\. victorian era. April 2013

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Arthur asks her.

Morgana pulls on her gloves and straightens her jacket before looking at him. “Father always lets me go. I don’t see the problem,” she says.

“I know, but–”

“We’re cousins, Arthur, and we’re not married yet.” She looks at him pointedly. He takes a step toward her and grabs her fingers lightly.

“So I can’t tell you what to do.”

“Precisely." 

Arthur just smiles a little and puts his hand against her cheek. "You wouldn’t listen even if I could.”

Morgana grins at him, but leans into his touch–warm and tender–before pulling away and adjusting her hat. “Now you’re learning,” she says.

 

 

###### 3\. magic reveal. April 2013

Morgana twists her hands together and looks at him from across the room. Her hair is in disarray, her eyes a bit wild and red, but the tilt of her chin is proud and her gaze unwavering.

“They’re dreams, Arthur,” she says softly. The afternoon light makes her look more fragile and vulnerable, though her voice is steady when she adds: “I didn’t choose this. It chose me.”

Arthur takes a deep breath. He can’t think right now, can’t process, can’t… But the thought of what his father could do… _would_ do…

He crosses the room and Morgana’s eyes follow him. He can see how tense her body is. He just wants to hold her and never let go.

“I need some time,” he says, instead, and kisses her on the forehead, inhaling the smell of her skin, of her hair. “Do not worry.”

She squeezes his arm lightly. “Thank you,” he hears, before closing the door behind him.

 

 

###### 4\. married couple. April. 2013

When they get married, people at the office start taking bets as to when they’re going to divorce (or kill each other, one or the other). Morgana sniffs disdainfully, but Arthur only laughs. He makes a point to call her to his office, and makes an ill-advised comment about something he knows will set her off. They have a row loud enough for people to hear.

They don’t see it because they bicker all the time. Arthur holds the door of the car opened for Morgana and she glowers at him. She orders his drink for him at the pub and he kicks her under the table like he’s five years old. She calls him a git, he calls her a witch. They fight about politics, and about TV shows, and everything else in between.

But they have no idea. They don’t know that Morgana’s hair is blackest when tangled and messy on her pillow. That she sleeps with a hand under her chin, and eats cereals on the sofa in her underwear. That she loves My Little Pony un-ironically. That she’s most beautiful in the morning when her eyes are lined with sleep. That her fierceness is soft-edged when his hands are on her waist and she pants above him, and whispers words into his skin. That she never eats the crust on her bread, or pizza. That no matter how sharp her tongue his, her fingers are always kind.

And they don’t know that they always have sex in the bathroom after their fights in his office, and when she calls him an arsehole he only smiles at her in the mirror and says: “Me too.”

 

 

## Gwaine/Percival

###### 1\. cuddling while watching a movie. March. 2013

Gwaine put the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table before letting himself drop on the sofa beside Percival . 

“Here,” he said, handing him his beer.

Percival grabbed it without looking, already absorbed in the movie, and Gwaine laughed, poking the frown line between Percival’s eyes. “You’ll give yourself wrinkles if you don’t stop,” he said. “You’ll look like an old man, and then I’ll have to dump your arse.”

Percival rolled his eyes, but smiled. Gwaine scooted himself closer until his body was flush against Percival’s and he could put his head on his shoulder.

Percival looked down at him. “Are we cuddling, now? Is this a thing that we do?”

Gwaine snuggled a bit and took a sip of his beer. “Better get used to it, big boy, that’s just how I roll.”

Percival snorted, but put his arm around Gwaine bringing him impossibly closer.

 

 

###### 2\. hospital. March. 2013

The first time Percy saw him he was coming out for his cigarette break while he was making sure all was in order with their ambulance and Arthur was replenishing their stocks.

“Sexy male nurse, one o'clock,” Arthur said.

Percy looked up and the man grinned at him, giving him a little salute and a wink before lighting his cigarette.

The second time Percy saw him, he was quickly being dragged between two ambulances and pushed against the side of one, hands tugging his shirt out of his trousers, roaming over his stomach.

“Gwaine,” the man said, kneeling in front of him, fingers working at his belt.

“Percival–Percy,” he replied in a gasp. And yeah, it wasn’t exactly how he had imagined asking out Sexy Male Nurse #1 (Arthur’s words, not his), but this would do. This would do quite nicely.

 

 

###### 3\. spies. April. 2013

Percival takes out his gun, looks over at Gwaine, and hesitates for a moment. If they fuck this up, this is it. There will be no more late nights fucking in fancy hotels, no more drinking beer and eating curry in India, no more watching the sun rise over Rio de Janeiro. No more anything. 

Gwaine rolls his eyes at him, comes closer, and takes Percival’s face between his hands.

The kiss is filthy and wet and way too short, but it’s so Gwaine–in the way their bodies are flushed, in the biting of lips and the clashing of teeth and tongues–and Percival gives everything to it.

Gwaine pulls back, grins and puts a piece of paper in Percival hands before taking out his gun and fading back into the shadows with a wink.

Percival looks down at the paper:

_Istanbul, Hagia Sophia, 10PM. Don’t be late… wanker._

Well, Percival better not die then, he has a date.

 

 

###### 4\. high school. April 2013

“Fuck, Gwaine, open the window first!”

“Fine, fine, relax mate,” Gwaine mumbled around the fag in his mouth while climbing on the edge of the sink and doing what Percival asked.

Percival lit both of their cigarettes and they leaned against the wall of the second-floor loos, knees and sides touching.

“What do you reckon they’re doing in class right now?” asked Percival, after a long silence.

“Fuck if I know, fuck if I care,” Gwaine said, stubbing his fag on the floor. “I know it’s better to be here. With you.”

Percival looked at him for a moment. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Gwaine looked at his watch. “We still have plenty of time.” Percival only grinned as Gwaine pushed him into a stall.

 

 

## Merlin & Gwen

###### 1\. karaoke night

Gwen slams her glass on the table.

“Merlin! It’s time.”

Merlin frowns at her for interrupting his conversation with the fit, blond guy he was talking to, but then his eyes widen and he grins.

“It’s time!” he says.

“The time of our lives.” Gwen nods. The blond guy looks at them confused, Gwen tries to remember his name but can’t quite manage it. “You’ll want to watch this,” she says, pointing at him. “It’ll blow your mind.”

Merlin stands up. “It’s epic,” he says. “Gwen and I have been perfecting this since high school.”

He sways a little and drapes his arm around Gwen’s shoulders, but she turns around and narrows her eyes at the guy, leaning toward him. “We’re going to do this number, and if you don’t want to fuck Merlin after this, you’ll have to answer to me, okay big boy?”

She pats Merlin’s cheek on her way to the stage. “I got your back, buddy.”

 

 

## Elena/Gwaine

###### 1\. office!AU. April. 2013

“Oh hey Elena! Gwaine. So sorry to bother you but—”

Elena laughs at the other end of the line, and he can’t help the warmth that spreads through him. “ _Have you tried turning it off and on again?_ ”

“Yes! I did everything you told me to do last time, but the screen keeps freezing anyway, and I have this important report to complete for Mr. Pendragon and well… you know how he is.”

“ _One day I’ll think you’re doing it on purpose,_ ” Elena says, and he swears she almost sounds fond.

“Nah. I’m just cursed I think.”

“ _Awww, poor lil’ Gwaine. Are you in need of an exorcism?_ ”

Gwaine gives his mouse a few forceful click. “I don’t know about me, but my computer certainly is. It’s possessed I’m sure of it. It hates me.”

Elena laughs again. “ _I’ll be right up._ ”

“Thanks, El, you’re the best. Don’t forget the Holy Water.”

Gwaine hangs up the phone and smile. He passes a hand through his hair, and straightens his tie. When Elena arrives she just hands him a cup of coffee—with a little cross and ‘holy water’ drawn on it—and rolls her eyes at him, trying to hide her grin.

 

 

## Lancelot/Gwaine

###### 1\. laundry day. Sept. 2013

Lancelot didn’t see him at first. He’d ridden all night, putting as much distance between himself and Camelot as he could, shame and longing both too sharp under his skin. 

He tied his horse to a tree beside the river before dropping down on the grass to take off his boots, breeches, and shirt. He walked into the cold water until it was up to his waist, clenching his muscles against the shivers, and splashed his face and hair to try and dislodge the tiredness and grime.

A rustle behind him made him turn sharply, eyes quickly searching for his sword still attached to the saddle of his horse. The man that came out of the shadows was shirtless and dirty, long brown hair matted to his skull with either sweat or water, Lancelot couldn’t say.

“Calm down, friend,” the man said. “I mean you no harm. Just trying to get myself cleaned up a bit.” he held up his dirty tunic with one hand. “I’m Gwaine, by the way.”

Lancelot eyed him for a moment. Gwaine had no weapon in sight, not even a horse, and Lancelot was so very tired, he just let out a deep breath and nodded.

“Lancelot,” he said, slowly walking out of the water to get his clothes.

Gwaine nodded as he crouched on the river’s bank and soaked his shirt in the water. His eyes followed Lancelot has he got out, up and down his body, and Lancelot fought back a blush. He really needed some sleep.

“We’re you from?” Gwaine asked.

Lancelot shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Where are you going then?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Gwaine stood up and walked up to him with a smooth swing in his hips, breeches low, and Lancelot couldn’t help but stare a little at the hollow of his hipbones.

“My kind of man,” Gwaine said with a smirk. “How about we go to the nearest tavern and we can try to figure out where to go from there?”

Lancelot looked at him for a moment. His bones and heart ached, and Gwaine was hard and angular in a way that he’d like to press against. 

“Let’s,” he said, and laughed a little at Gwaine’s goofy grin.

 

 

## Arthur/Freya

###### 1\. fairytale!AU. August. 2014

There is a knife at his throat.

“Lower your bow,” a small, girly voice says. It cracks and wobbles, but the hand holding the knife does not tremble against his skin. Arthur could disarm her easily. Instead, he unbends his right arm, let’s the arrow he was pulling back fall to the mossy ground of the woods.

The girl moves in front of him, arm still pointing a dagger at his chest. Behind her the deer he was hunting hasn’t moved. The girl is small and skinny, with messy dark hair and dark eyes, dirt on her face and clothes. While he can read fear and uncertainty in her eyes, her stance is wide and steely, resolve. Arthur can respect that, though it has the foolishness of the innocent, and the bravery of the naive.

Her feet are bare, her skirts in tatters showing scarred legs full of insect bites. There are healing cuts on her arms and neck too, and Arthur is reminded that not all battles and not all wars are fought on battlefields with swords in hand.

“That is my brother,” the girl says, looking at him in the eyes and taking a step forward, “and you shan’t hurt him.”

Looking over her shoulder, Arthur sees the deer staring at them. The light comes diffused and dappled through the thick canopy and for a moment, Arthur thinks he sees the air around the animal shimmer, sees a pair of bright blue eyes. He blinks and it is gone.

“I will not hurt him,” he says, looking back at the girl and raising his hands in surrender. “You have my word.”

The girl pinches her lips and narrows her eyes as if pondering, weighting him and his worth. He awaits her judgement.

 

 


	5. tumblr: six words stories (various pairings)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pairings in alphabetical order.  
>  **warning** : some incest pairings

 

 

**Agravaine/Ygraine** : \- Golden sister, her kisses like light.

**Annis/Vivian** : \- Under her hands, only queenlike skin.

**Arthur/Cenred** : \- Cenred’s greedy, wants all the gold.

**Arthur/Freya** :  
\- In his sleep, he finds her.  
\- He wakes; magic breathed inside lungs.

**Arthur/Gwaine** : \- Courage and strength; Together in death.

**Arthur/Gwen** :  
\- “I do not want your crown.”  
\- He gave her himself: his kingdom.

**Arthur/Kara/Will** : \- Arthur takes their anger in; moans.

**Arthur/Lancelot** : \- “ _My_ First Knight.” "Yours, Sire. Forever.”

**Arthur/Leon** : \- Taught the prince to fight; love. 

**Arthur/Merlin** :  
\- Dream: a farm. Only with you.  
\- “With you, I am only Arthur.”  
\- His smile: more precious than Camelot.  
\- Without destiny, I’d still love you.  
\- In the end, only him mattered.  
\- Sweaty, content; crowned only by candlelight.  
\- Waiting; it tastes like his name.

**Arthur/dark!Merlin** : \- Only one thought: extinguish the light.

**Arthur/Mithian** : \- Never wanted to be second choice.

**Arthur/Mordred** : \- “I loved you once.” Deathlike cruel.

**Arthur/Morgana** :  
\- He calls her sister. She bites.  
\- She whispers, breathes: “brother”. He comes.

**Arthur/Morgause** : \- She fucked him and hated him.

**Arthur/Percival** : \- Arthur: his new home to protect.

**Arthur/Will** :  
\- Will’s hatred made Arthur want more.  
\- Fuck princes and their fuckable arses.

**Arthur & Ygraine**: \- Every year, he hates his birthday.

**Cenred/Morgause** : \- She’s fire. He loves the burn.

**Elena/Gwaine** : \- A horse race: the winner tops.

**Elena/Mithian** :  
\- She rides Mithian; clumsy and perfect.  
\- They rise together, princesses to queens.  
\- “Let’s ride." "Leave our crowns behind.”  
\- No princes compare to her smile.

**Elena/Mithian/Vivian** : \- Elena pushes. Mithian licks. Vivian screams.

**Elena/Morgana** : \- Her hair dark, entwined with gold.

**Freya/Gwen** : \- She moans “Gwen”; her waters rise.

**Freya/Lancelot** : \- She embraces him with watery algae. 

**Freya/Merlin** :  
\- She whispered magic into his mouth.  
\- Avalon saved her when he failed.

**Freya/Morgana** : \- She would show the witch love.

**Freya/Sophia** : \- “Love, you are forgiven. Come home.”

**Gaius/Merlin** : \- With fingers that smelled like herbs.

**Gaius/Uther** : \- “I gave up magic for you.”

**Gwaine/Gwen** : \- Apples now taste bitter, like grief. 

**Gwaine/Leon** : \- Both nobles, by birth and choice.

**Gwaine/Merlin** :  
\- He could find him always. Anywhere.  
\- He will always be Merlin’s Knight.

**Gwaine/Morgana** : \- “You want me? Dance for it.”

**Gwaine/Will** : \- Goddamn him and his hair. Fuck.

**Gwen/Lancelot** :  
\- The veil swallowed her name; beloved.  
\- “Stay. I would have chosen you.”

**Helios/Morgana** : \- He will serve her, until death.

**Hunith/Uther** : \- “Kiss me." _Forget about my son._

**Hunith/Will** : \- Her loneliness filled with youthful smiles.

**Isolde/Morgana** : \- She is the sorceress’ thief, always.

**Kara/Sefa** : \- Memories of her: gaping, bleeding wounds.

**Lancelot/Merlin** : \- Arthur’s his duty; Merlin’s his choice. 

**Lancelot/Morgana** : \- Obeisance isn’t as nice as love.

**Merlin/Mithian** : \- She only wanted the servant boy.

**Merlin/Mordred** : \- "You made me into this, Emrys.”

**Merlin/Morgana** : \- Her blood on his hands; stained. 

**Merlin/Uther** : \- Secret: golden eyes turn him on.

**Merlin/Vivian** : \- She grins. “Come now, servant boy.”

**Mithian/Morgana** : \- Her fingers on her throat; tight.

**Morgana/Morgause** : \- “Sister.” The word beloved; knife-sharp.

**Morgana/Uther** : \- He made her want a lie. 

**Nimueh/Ygraine** :  
\- Life: the most treacherous of gift.  
\- Forbidden magic; anything for her queen.


	6. Graphic AUs: M/A - Meet Me By the Seaside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 2013

 

 

 

 

This, Arthur expected: never to speak to his father again; cold silences, and ocean-wide distances the only things they ever agreed on. This, he did not expect: for Uther to leave him everything he owned in his will.

What Arthur discovers in the small town by the sea where once cosmopolitan Uther lived, are traces of a calm, quiet, even joyous man, who was in love with sailing and nothing like the estranged father he used to know. Curious, and with a strange need to reconnect to a man he had cast out of his life, Arthur stays.

At the local marina he meets Merlin who takes care of the boats and docks, and seems to know everything about the sea, about the town, about how they live one against the other. When Arthur finds out that Merlin has no home and sleeps in his car or in the boat house, Arthur makes him an offer: a room in his cottage in exchange for sailing lessons.

Slowly Arthur understands–it’s the deep blue of the ocean and the salty wind and sharp cries of the seagulls. It’s Merlin and Arthur and how they wrap their fingers around ropes and wood, and the way they laugh loud and bright as the sails catch the wind and they both glide, glide, fast and relentless. It’s the sea, the creaking docks, and the rolling green hills. It’s Merlin and the crashing waves and the way they both collide with Arthur and how he never wants it to stop.

 

 


	7. Graphic AUs: M/A - Summer Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 2013

 

 

 

 

When he’s asked how long he’s known Arthur, ‘forever’ is the closest, most honest answer Merlin can give. In actually, they’ve known each other ever since Merlin’s mum started working at the Pendragon’s estate, and Arthur (then five years old) took a disdainful look at Merlin (then five years old and a half thank you very much), made a nasty comment about Merlin’s ears and Merlin pushed him in the pool. Apparently in Arthur-speak that meant 'best friends forever’ and Merlin didn’t argue.

Now it’s their last summer together before they each go to different universities across the country and Merlin doesn’t know how to face Arthur-empty days. He’s not quite sure he’s ready for them. They decide to spend the summer at the Pendragons’ beach house as a last celebration, a goodbye to their childhood and all the things they took for granted and never truly appreciated until they started to slip away.

And there’s that thing that’s been simmering between them threatening to boil and spill all its secrets into the harsh, bright summer sun. That thing that makes Merlin’s fingers linger on Arthur’s skin, that makes his heart skip when he catches Arthur’s gaze on him. Between the hot sand under their toes, the blinding sunsets, the rush and roar of the waves under their surfboards, there’s no solid ground for them to hold onto anymore. Merlin’s ready to give in and see where it takes him, as long as he gets to wrap his fingers around Arthur’s and take him for the ride. In Merlin-speak it means 'maybe most probably more and forever’.

 

 


	8. Graphic AUs: M/A - Bring Me the Horizon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 2013

 

 

 

 

They say that the Kilgharrah was the fastest ship to sail the seas, that her sails were always full even when there was no wind.

They say her captain used to be one of those rich boys, pompous and arrogant. Ran away he did, nobody knew where, wasn’t heard from for years. Until one day he came back, fully grown, tanned dark from the sun, hair gleaming gold under his hat. Called himself Pendragon. They were just about to hang a young man in the main square, all weird and whistling, shook the hangman’s hand, acted like he wasn’t scared of anything. “Emrys!” Pendragon called to him. They say the boy laughed when he saw him, rolled his eyes, called back: “Good Lord, took you long enough!”

They tried to stop them, the King’s guard and all, but Pendragon and Emrys just laughed their way through the fight, bickering like old maids and left on Pendragon’s ship. They say the Kilgharrah sailed on all the seas, went to all corners of the Earth, that its crew sang songs in the middle of storms. They called themselves the Knights, they did, even had women with them that could slice your throat as good as any men. 

When they got bored, when they had seen everything there was to see, they set sail for the Isle of the Blessed. No one has ever found it or come back to tell the tale. Some say they never made it, that the Kraken that lives at the edge of the world got them, and the Kilgharrah was sunk. Others say they did, that Pendragon and Emrys and all the Knights defeated the monster, set foot on the Isle, and found immortality.

“ _To the horizon and then beyond, Mr. Emrys_ ”

“ _Aye, aye, Captain._ ”

 

 


	9. Graphic AUs: M/A - Scholarly Pursuits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 2013

 

 

 

 

 There are a few things Merlin knows for certain: he’s clever, he learns fast, he has an unhealthy caffeine habit and a slightly overzealous passion for old dusty stories, his handwriting is messy, he’ll never understand the rules of football, and his research supervisor is completely, unfairly fit. And off-limits.

 But even knowing all that Merlin can’t help the skip in his heart when Pendragon praises him or his work. Or the warmth that pools in his stomach when he realizes they’ve been discussing Merlin’s thesis, and Pendragon’s–Arthur’s–work for hours without either of them getting tired. Or the shiver down his spine when Arthur leans over a book with him–tracing the words with his fingers, speaking low and close to his ear–and Merlin has to resist the urge to lean against Arthur, into the solidity of his body. 

 And so there are a few things Merlin knows he wants and doesn’t want. He wants to finish his thesis with honours, and to publish at least one paper before the end of the year. He wants to work with Arthur, but he also wants _Arthur_ , but he doesn’t want to get expelled, or for Arthur to lose his job, or to change program or school, or to stop coming into Arthur’s office with a coffee at the end of the day, and for Arthur to look up from the papers he’s grading, hair messy and tie loosened, and for his face to split into a grin at the sight of Merlin.

 It’s a bit of a mess really, but Merlin’s up to the challenge. After all, he’s clever and fast and he might not know how to play football, but there are other games he’s willing to bet he can learn how to play.

 

 


	10. Graphic AUs: M/A - Find Me At the End of the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 2013

 

 

 

 

Arthur heard it on the radio first. He was humming along one of those pop songs Merlin likes to play loud in the flat on Saturday mornings while he makes pancakes and burns the bacon. One of those songs that Arthur hates and would never admit to knowing the lyrics of, but it makes him think of Merlin when Arthur’s far away on a business trip and misses him like crazy. Like an ache that won’t go away. They cut the song to tell them that the sky was falling–New York City was no more. Soon it would be Shanghai, Tokyo, Johannesburg, the entire American West coast, Paris, that little village in the middle of Uganda. Everywhere.

The first thing he thought was ’ _Fuck_ ’ then ’ _Merlin_ ’. Then all his brain could focus on was how to find a way to get back to Merlin. Get back to their tiny flat in Cardiff. Get back before it’s too late.

Now Arthur races across the country amongst panic and riots and fires. Like the whole of humanity is bent on burning itself before the heavens can do it. The world tear itself apart around him, the ground shakes, buildings tumble, oceans rise, and he wills them all to wait, just a little bit, just wait for him to get there, get to Merlin, get there and–

–let him kiss Merlin one more time, let him hold him again, let them have sex on their stupidly soft bed. Let him whisper in Merlin’s ear all the things he’s never said even if Merlin knows them. Let his hands feel the rise of Merlin’s chest, the beat of his heart, let him see his smile one last time. Please, just one more time, just once, before time runs out.

 

 


	11. Graphic AUs: M/A - The Sacred Band

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June 2013

 

 

 

 

Arthur, just like all the other men in his troop, was handpicked by the Commander himself to fight in the army. He’s young, fast, and strong. He wants for nothing but the weight of a sword or spear in his hand, the straps of a shield on his arm, and the burning of his muscles–the fast pace of his heart, of his blood, the exhilarating fury of battle, like a war cry pounding inside his chest, spreading relentlessly inside his veins. He was made for this.

And all of it, he shares with Merlin.

They are bonded together in life and in death. They may have taken their vows in front of the Gods, but when Merlin’s shoulder brushed Arthur’s, when his lips were warm and soft on Arthur’s throat, his fingers rough and tender and impatient on his skin, Arthur knew he would never let Merlin go. They are brothers, friends, lovers; fierce and bold, sacred and beloved. They fight together, laugh together, sleep, dine, breathe, love and live together.

They will die together, too. Of that, Arthur is certain. Whether it’s on the battlefield or after–when the fight is over and Arthur has taken Merlin home with him where they can learn to live in new, different, wild ways–only the Gods know.

(inspired by - The Sacred Band of Thebes: a troop of soldiers consisting of 150 pairs of male lovers)

 

 


	12. Graphic AUs: M/A - Constantine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> August 2014

 

 

 

 

Arthur battles the forces of Evil–hunts, kills, exorcists, and generally kick demon ass–in hope of gaining his way back into Heaven. Merlin’s always been able to see angels and demons, but has managed to keep his head down until the moment where he couldn’t and found himself hunted down.

Arthur’s case brings him to Merlin and together they have to figure out why demons are suddenly trying to cross over into our world without taking possession of a host. There’s lots of ass kicking and sassing annoying, unhelpful angels and demons alike, and falling in love and generally being so over Heaven and Hell thinking that this world is their goddamn playground.

 

 


	13. Penn Hall: Elena/Mithian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> May 2013

 

 

_Deep in the lush countryside is Penn Hall. Owned by the Pendragon family for generations, it was emptied during the war and fell into decrepitude until Igraine Pendragon took it upon herself to restore it and turn it into a school for girls of all ages and walks of life._

Elena has been going to Penn Hall since she was a little girl. She likes it well enough. It has been more of a home to her than her father’s house. She knows all its secrets, all its nooks and crannies, the sound the wind makes against the stone walls, the smell of the tapestries in winter–everything. People come and go every year–teachers, staff, students–but Elena stays. Nothing surprises her here. Her grades are decent, she doesn’t play sports more than she has to, preferring to burrow herself in her books and colours. It’s simple and predictable and safe. 

Then Mithian, new English teacher and all-around perfect human being, comes into Elena’s life and everything–absolutely everything–changes. Mithian’s smart and beautiful and loves the pre-Raphaelites. She recites Christina Rossetti and smiles when Elena mouths along with her. She looks at Elena’s drawings like she sees something in them Elena hoped was hidden. They laugh over silly cartoons in the papers, and Mithian never tells on Elena when she finds her in the kitchen late at night, unable to sleep. Elena shows her where it’s safe to sneak out for a smoke, and Mithian doesn’t let go of her hand when they get caught in a storm. There’s a secret in Mithian’s eyes, an ache that shadows her smile sometimes, and Elena wants to figure it out.

It’s soft and lovely. It’s forbidden and absolutely, completely overwhelming. Elena’s not sure she can bring herself to care, though, not when Mithian is with her, not when she makes life at Penn Hall–Elena’s life–so unpredictable and wonderful.

*** 

*** 

*** 


	14. Penn Hall: Freya & Vivian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> June 2013

 

 

 

 

_Deep in the lush countryside is Penn Hall. Owned by the Pendragon family for generations, it was emptied during the war and fell into decrepitude until Igraine Pendragon took it upon herself to restore it and turn it into a school for girls of all ages and walks of life._

Vivian doesn’t particularly want to be at Penn Hall. She’d much prefer being at home, studying with her private tutors, but her father wouldn’t hear a word of it. Honestly, you make one mistake and make out with the pool boy and the next thing you know your overprotective dad is sending you to boarding school. Thing is, she could probably get boys here to, if she really tried. She’s pretty, and young, and she has the perky, innocent, airhead act that boys and men seem to like down to an art. But really, it seems like a waste of time.

The school’s not that bad though, all things considered. She wasn’t really happy with having a roommate, but Freya is quickly becoming the best part of being at Penn Hall. At first, Vivian thought she’d be just another shy and studious scholarship student with poor taste in clothes and very little to say. But Freya proved to be quiet more than shy, and while she’s obviously bright, she’s also fun and sarcastic and sneaks out at night with Vivian when the school get too stuffy and she can’t stand being inside of it any longer. They hang out in their room and do their homework together and sit in the gardens on the weekends to smoke cigarettes and read magazines. Vivian invites Freya to their family estate on holidays, and in turn Freya finds a way to get them into the local pubs and clubs–when they’re allowed to go in town.

Vivian’s never had a best friend–never thought she needed one–but she also never needed any of the boys that came knocking on her window either. But she’s slowly realising that maybe she just needed to meet Freya.

*** 

*** 

 

 


	15. Penn Hall: Morgause & Sefa & Kara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> November 2013

 

 

 

 

_Deep in the lush countryside is Penn Hall. Owned by the Pendragon family for generations, it was emptied during the war and fell into decrepitude until Ygraine Pendragon took it upon herself to restore it and turn it into a school for girls of all ages and walks of life._

It was only supposed to be a short-term favour for Morgana. The deal had been for Morgause to implement Penn Hall’s new physical education program and diving team, and then she was to go on her way. Morgause had never wanted to have anything to do with Penn Hall and the Pendragons, except for her monthly lunches with her sister. Staying longer than necessary was out of the question. She hadn’t counted on the girls, though, especially the ones on scholarships, all of them a bit lost, and all of them a lot brilliant. 

Like shy and gentle Sefa, who was always full of good intentions, and wanted everyone to be happy so that she’d let them walk all over her without a thought. Except Morgause saw the way she bit her lips and chewed the inside of her cheeks to try and hide how upset it actually made her. Like Kara, who was always angry about everything, always ready to bite, like she was expecting everything to be a battle, and everyone to be against her. Morgause knew that anger too well. She knew these girls too well, in fact, knew how they felt inside their own skin and their own minds. It touched something inside of her that made her decide to stay for one more day until she wasn’t thinking about leaving anymore.

And now, when Sefa says a wobbly ‘no’, but tilts her chin and doesn’t budge, and Kara says a 'please’ that doesn’t sound like it’s the most disgusting thing she’s ever said, when they dive beautifully into the water, graceful arcs into the air, and emerge from the water with bright, proud grins on their faces… well, Morgause thinks that maybe being at Penn Hall isn’t so bad after all.

*** 

 

 


	16. Fanart: 8 Little Morganas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> collab with [amphigoury](http://amphigoury.livejournal.com/). She asked me if I wanted to collaborate with her on an art piece she was doing for [reel_merlin](http://reel-merlin.livejournal.com/) inspired by the movie _The Royal Tenenbaums_. My job was to make 8 little portraits of Morgana that could be framed and hung behind Merlin in a reinterpretation of the characters, Margot and Richie Tenenbaum.
> 
> [See the full finished piece where both our works combined](http://amphigoury.livejournal.com/45601.html). Amph did a really awesome and beautiful job and I love how she combined our pieces together. I’m really, really grateful I was able to contribute to her idea somehow.

 

 

 

 


	17. Fanart: Elena/Mithian (Graphic)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Made for Merlin Reverse Big Bang (March 2014).

 

 

 

 

**[DULCE ET DECORUM EST](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1318765)**  
» a Merlin Reverse Big Bang fanfiction by **[lostlenore](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lostlenore/pseuds/lostlenore)**  
» Elena/Mithian | 8K | Mature | historical!AU (post WWI)  
» **Summary** : Mithian’s ambulance brigade disbands at Armistice, but the year is now 1922 and she’s still not quite coping. It is luck, or maybe fate, that reminds her of an old family friend out West who runs a boarding house. It is definitely fate that Elena Gawant decides to board there too.

 

 


	18. Fanart: Merlin/Arthur (Graphic)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Made for Merlin Reverse Big Bang (March 2014)

 

 

 

 

 **[A GOOD OLD FASHIONED STORY](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/merlinreversebb/works/1500362)**  
» a Merlin Reverse Big Bang Story by **[nomical](http://nomical.tumblr.com/)**  
» Merlin/Arthur | 21K | G | Fairytale/Fantasy!AU  
» **Summary** : This is the tale of Sir Arthur. His tale begins the same as many; with stories of chivalry told to him by his mother. As he grows up, Arthur desires nothing more than to be a figure in one of those tales. Unfortunately, his own quest doesn’t go quite as planned, but it’s still worth telling. After all, every hero needs a good old fashioned story.

 

 


	19. Pthon 2013

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ficlets written for bonus challenges

 

 

### Bonus 3: Costume party

###### Merlin/Arthur

There's a lot Merlin loves about working at his uncle Gaius camping grounds for the third summer in a row. He loves that he gets to be outside, sitting in his lifeguard chair by the lake all day. He loves that he gets to eat BBQ pretty much every night. He loves the campfires, helping campers set up, the occasional guided walk through the mountain, the sunny days and rainy days and the way things always smell green, and clean, and earthy. Not to mention the surprising number of fit guys coming and going all summer, playing volleyball on the beach, all shirtless and shining skin in the sunshine. 

He loves all of it, except this... this farce. This Christmas in July _thing_. Uncle Gaius is so giddy every time, stringing lights around the main house, playing carols on the radio, making eggnog, and making Merlin dress like a fucking elf so he can go and give candy canes to each and every one of the camping sites. In _tights_. There's a reason why Merlin doesn't get laid most summers, and he's pretty sure it's because of this. No one can see him as sexy after this. No one.

He's hiding by the little bridge over the stream that runs on the edges of the site, down to the lake, smoking a cigarette and hoping this day would fucking end already, when someone crouches next to him.

Merlin looks up and tries not to groan with desperation, because of fucking course the person would be Arthur Pendragon. It's not like Merlin had gone out of his way all morning to avoid meeting Arthur, hoping against all hope that he'd never have to see Merlin like this, and that it wouldn't ruined all of Merlin's chances of having a movie-like, against-all-odds summer romance with the stupidly hot and attractive and completely out of his league Arthur Pendragon who would just happen to have a thing for pale, skinny, geeky lifeguards. 

Merlin never said he didn't have unrealistic dreams.

"Can I have one?" Arthur says pointing to Merlin's cigarette.

Merlin raises an eyebrow, but turns around, takes out his pack and hands it to Arthur.

"I don't even want to know where you were keeping that," Arthur says.

Merlin chuckles, but looks away. If the earth would swallow him right now he'd be eternally grateful. 

"Having fun?" Arthur asks after taking a few quiet drags on his cigarette?

"Tons," Merlin says, throwing pebbles in the water.

They finish smoking in silence. Merlin takes a deep breath and stands without looking at Arthur. He's done. He feels sad and wrecked and he just wants to go, but as he turns to leave with a small wave, he bends to retrieve his basket full of candy canes and Arthur's hand closes on his wrist.

Merlin looks up surprised, and is completely blind-sided by Arthur's full smile, genuine and not mocking, and full of slightly crooked teeth that makes him look like an excited little boy.

Arthur stands and pulls on Merlin's arm a little so Merlin stumbles a few steps until he's almost knocking into Arthur. Arthur looks at him for a moment, and Merlin swears he can hear his own heartbeat loud against his ribcage. Arthur's look is uncertain for a second, before he takes a breath and kisses the corner of Merlin's mouth, quick and dry, but sweet, terribly sweet, so sweet it makes Merlin's heart skip and he forgets to breathe a little.

"I'll see you at the Christmas Dance, yeah?" Arthur says, and Merlin can feel the smile spreading on his own lips, even as his brain hasn't caught up to what happened just yet. Arthur smiles back and pushes Merlin's hat back from his forehead. "You should keep it on," he says. "I like it."

Merlin can only smile more.

 

 

### Bonus 5: getting tipsy

###### Merlin/Arthur & Elena/Gwaine

Merlin watches with increasing dread as Elena places ten shooters in front of Gwaine, and ten in front of her.

"I learned this while backpacking in Canada," she says to Gwaine, who's looking at her with the most besotted expression Merlin has ever seen on his face. "Ten shooters, all different kinds, one for each provinces."

"Right." Gwaine nods.

"That can't end well," Arthur says, coming up next to Merlin, the both of them leaning slightly on the bar. There are people singing, and glass clinking, and somewhere Morgana's dancing on a table with Gwen, but Merlin is more preoccupied with what's happening at the bar right now. He turns to Arthur.

"You might want to find Percy and tell him he'll be on Gwaine babysitting duty tonight," he says.

"Oh come on, Merlin, you can't honestly think--"

"Arthur, you don't understand, nobody outdrinks Elena. Nobody."

"... the first one to finish wins," Elena's saying as she fiddles with the glasses in front of her. 

"What's the prize?" Gwaine asks, giving Elena his sweetest smile and Merlin shakes his head trying to get his attention because that's not going to work on Elena, but when Gwaine leans forward in a decidedly flirty manner, Merlin just rolls his eyes and thinks maybe it'd be best to let him find the error of his ways on his own.

"Whatever the winner chooses," Elena says with a small grin that makes her look innocent and sweet and oh but Gwaine's in trouble now.

"She's going to destroy him," Merlin says to Arthur.

Arthur only shrugs and leans forward a bit more to get a better look. "Let her then," he says with a glint of glee in his eyes that makes Merlin think Arthur hasn't actually completely forgiven Gwaine for the Pencil Incident of 2012.

"I think you're enjoying this a bit too much," Merlin says.

"There's no such thing as enjoying Gwaine getting humiliated too much. By a girl who clearly gives no shit about sleeping with him. At something he thinks he's the best at," Arthur says. He licks his lips and shuffles his feet in excited anticipation. "I want to remember this always."

"You're going to be insufferable about this, aren't you?"

Arthur grins at him over his shoulder and pulls Merlin toward him, curling his fingers into Merlin's shirt, until he's close and warm against Arthur's side.

"Course I'll be," Arthur says. "It's not that bad really, Gwaine's probably going to enjoy whatever's coming to him, anyway."

And by the look on Gwaine's face when Elena slams her last shooter glass on the bar, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, while there are still two full glasses in front of Gwaine, Merlin knows Arthur's right.

 

 

### Bonus 6: colours

###### Mithian/Elena

Elena Likes yellow. She thinks people generally like blue or green, even red on occasion (like Arthur), but she loves yellow over all other colours.

Yellow is the colour of the wig her mum bought when she lost her hair even though her original hair colour was brown, because she said she wanted to have pretty hair like Elena's. It's the colour of the princess dress her dad bought her when she was eight, and Elena wore it to the fair, and got complimented on it a lot, even after she tripped and put dust all over it.

It's the colour of her kitchen curtains in the first flat she has on her own, tiny and crammed, with creamy walls that she covers in art prints and weird band posters. She sits on the counter every morning with a cup of coffee, and the curtains, patterned with little red cherries, reminds her of home. 

It's the colour of the lemony inside of the meringue pie they serve at the little cafe three streets down from uni, tuck between a bookshop and a butcher, where she sits at a table in the corner, just by the window, and writes her essays every Wednesday afternoon.

When she was twelve, her father had to leave her with the Pendragons for a whole summer. She didn't get along with Arthur and Morgana at first, and their house was too big and quiet and she hated it. But one day she snuck out and took out one of their horses. She'd almost made it out of the stables when Arthur caught her and she therefore had no other choice but to challenge him to a race. Which she won. Arthur was a bit of a sore loser, but he gave her a sort of appreciative look, before offering her the hand of friendship in the form of a lemon candy out of his pocket, kind of warm and a bit melted, but she tucked it in her cheek anyway and let it melt slowly. 

She gives him a box of the stuff every Christmases.

Yellow is the colour of the ribbon in the hair of the girl at the cafe who, every Wednesday, gives Elena her pie with a wide smile. Sometimes she adds a cookie. On the house. Her name tag says her name's Mithian, and Elena thinks it's the strangest, most beautiful name she has ever heard.

On their first date, Mithian gives her yellow flowers, which Elena later presses between the pages of a book (a Sylvia Plath collection; Mithian's favourite). It's also the colour of the little post-its they leave each other on the fridge door in Elena's flat where half the space is now occupied by Mithian's things. It's the colour of her sunny side-up eggs Mithian makes for her the morning after the first time they have sex, and the colour of the placemats in the restaurant where Mithian asks her to move in with her. 

It's the colour of the little blown glass paperweight Arthur sends her from Italy where he met a boy named Merlin who's studying architecture, and Elena has never heard him so happy, which makes her like that Merlin bloke instantly.

It's also the colour of the light, as it slants into their bedroom, hers and Mithian's, after they've unpacked all their boxes, and put all of Mithian's books on the shelves, with some piled beside the furniture on the floor because they don't have enough space, and they've spent half an hour arranging Elena's glass ornaments collection on top of the dresser together, Mithian careful fingers dusting them down, carefully, making Elena's heart beat a bit faster, grow a bit bigger. And it's the way that light moves across Mithian's skin as she lays naked in bed, reading poems out loud, while Elena traces the letter of the words that catch her attention on Mithian's skin with her finger. 

It blinds a little, how bright it is, really, but Elena thinks it's exactly why she loves yellow so much anyway.

 

 


	20. Pthon 2014

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> little graphics made for pthon 2014 bonus challenges

 

 

### Bonus 5: Bechdel Test

###### Mithian/Vivian

 

 

Mithian is the serious and dutiful daughter of a Duke that secretly craves adventures and some change in her like, something to break the monotony of it, brightens all the boring meeting and all the boring men that courts her. Vivian is bubbly and loves clothes and magazines and driving cars, she's spoiled, but loves to have fun and somehow they bond during the long train ride across the country.

"Have you seen this?" Vivian shows Mithian a page of her magazine. "Can you believe it? Who would even wear such a thing?"

Mithian doesn't say that she has a dress just like it. It doesn't matter. She agrees; It's horrendous. 

Vivian continues to flip the pages. "Oh, I like this," she says, once again showing Mithian. It's a hunting outfit.

Mithian snorts. "It's nice, but impractical. You'd never catch anything wearing _that._ "

Vivian straightens up. "Do you hunt?"

"I do." Mithian's rather good at it, too. Better than her father and most of her cousins. And suitors.

Vivian grins, bites her lips and leans forward. "Tell me about it."

 

 

### Bonus 6: Ecards

###### Merlin/Arthur: a friendship told in ecards. 

 

 


End file.
